Saturday, 19 November 2011

Cultureshock: Decimation.


Probably before I had completed the conundrum, I had already realised the word formula with which I had attempted to encapsulate my vision, would not be the end of the necessary steps to try and ensure the knowledge that I was attempting to transmit and project to other minds was not short circuited.

From this acceptance and realisation the next days I wrote and transmitted articles to a variety of ten publications which I felt contained a fertile field of brain power which would be in a far better position to exploit my offering. Time was of the essence and my feeling was to take the chance that had been offered. Instinctively it was apparent that to labour at an effort to project every last detail that may have ensued from a book would be to waste a heaven sent opportunity that hardly came in a dozen life times.

So the articles went off sent with a passion and expectancy I had every right to expect the World would immediately sit up and take notice. Naturally enough the World did no such thing. Even the article I felt was the king pin and key to the whole terrific adventure, landed back on my doormat some time later. The impact of the vision: the effort to record and distribute my interpretation of the possibilities it presented. The cold silence of rejection, all combined to place me inside a psychiatric hospital, toward the end of January 1973.

Fortunately the medical staff appeared to be quite used to the traumas, tantrums and odd pronouncements uttered by those in their care. My case they took in their stride, so when rather to my amazement I managed to get back into work within the recognised period of two months, though heavily drugged, and cursing every second feeling more moronic than man I struggled through a hazy year and more putting one foot in front of the other with careful precision.

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